


Three AM

by Rookblonkorules



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookblonkorules/pseuds/Rookblonkorules
Summary: When the phone rings at three in the morning, it’s never good news. Hotch learns this the hard way when he receives a call from Spencer in the middle of the night.





	1. Chapter 1

When Hotch wakes up, it’s dark still. 

Morning hasn’t come yet.

A glance at his bedside clock tells him it’s only a little past three AM. Meaning the alarm isn’t set to go off for another few hours.

That’s not what woke him.

All he knows is something, some sound, woke him, but all is quiet now.

Beside him, Haley stirs. “Aaron, what…?”

“It’s nothing, Haley,” he reassures her. “Go back to sleep.”

He still has no idea why he woke. It could very well be nothing.

Something tells him it’s not.

His phone rings again from its place on the dresser. 

Closing his eyes, he suppresses a groan. Calls in the middle of the night are never to share good news, especially not in his line of work, and he’d been hoping for some family time with Jack and Haley.

He picks it up, checks the ID and frowns.

Reid is never the one to call him at this time of night.

Not for a case. Not for anything really.

With a growing sense of foreboding, Hotch answers. “Hello?”

“Hotch?” 

It’s Reid, but his voice is small, trembling.

It’s enough to send Hotch bolting upright in bed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Haley sits up, tugging at her nightgown.

“Reid? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“I… yeah, I… I.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, as if the speaker is in pain.

A voice murmurs on the other end, low and threatening.

Something cold ices over Hotch’s blood and he clenches the phone a little tighter.

“Reid, what…”

He doesn’t get any further. Reid cuts him off.

“My apartment,” Reid manages. “He wants you here. Hotch, don’t come, he’s…” 

His voice is suddenly muffled, likely by a hand gripping his face, and he falls silent.

“Reid!”

Hotch can’t keep the anxiety out of his voice, despite knowing what Haley must be thinking. 

A new voice comes over the phone. “Thirty minutes, Agent Hotchner,” it says, emotionless, robotic.

And then it hangs up.

“Aaron?” Haley’s hand is on his arm and she’s worried and more than just a little scared. “What’s going on?”

His mouth opens almost automatically to tell her, as he’s told her so many times, “It’s nothing. I’ll handle it. Go back to sleep.” He shuts it, and quickly gets out of bed, reaching for his work clothes.

“Aaron?” Haley is still waiting for an explanation and he owes it to her to give her one. “Where are you going?” “I need you to call my team,” he tells her. “Tell them someone has Reid, and whoever it is, he expects me to be at his apartment in half an hour.”

Haley’s hand moves to her mouth. A wetness gathers at the corners of her eyes. “Aaron, whoever this is…”

“Haley.” Hotch take. “I need you to call my team. But I need you to wait ten minutes. I need to make sure I can get there first.”

“But…”

“Ten minutes, Haley. Then I need you to call them.” He gives her a steady look, one that he hopes will reassure her. “I need to do this, Haley.”

She swallows, resignation and fear overtaking her features. “Just… just promise me you’ll come back safe.”

“I’m going to try.” Right now, it’s as good as he can give.


	2. Chapter 2

Hotch has his gun drawn when he reaches Reid’s apartment twenty minutes later.

He prepares to kick down the door, but then notices that it’s already left open a crack.

An invitation.

One he has no choice but to accept.

He realizes how foolish this is, going into an unknown situation without backup present, but right now he doesn’t care.

Hotch pushes the door open.

The first thing that registers is the mess. Shattered glass on the floor.

There was a fight. 

And one that likely didn’t end well for Reid.

“Whoever you are,” he calls, “I’m here.”

It’s stupid, calling out to warn an unsub of his presence, but if the man knows he’s arrived, there’s a chance he won’t hurt Reid any more than he already has.

There’s a chance, there’s always the chance, that Reid might get hurt anyways, but Hotch is going to do what he can to ensure that that doesn’t happen.

No one answers him. The apartment is deathly still.

Hotch feels an involuntary shiver rush its way up his spine at the unconscious use of the word “deathly.”

He steps inside, gun held out in front of him.

The attacker is waiting for him, somewhere inside, which means he needs to be ready.

The apartment, however, is silent. No sign of human activity.

Hotch wonders briefly if the assailant has already taken Reid elsewhere.

His eyes fall on several spots of blood scattered across the hardwood floor and he feels a pang of anxiety.

Unless he managed to get a few good hits in at his attacker, Reid has been hurt.

There isn’t a lot though. Not enough for it to have been fatal, or even serious, and it’s most likely a result of the broken glass, Hotch reasons.

It’s still enough to worry him.

He ventures further into the apartment. 

It seems disturbingly empty.

Either the intruder is lying in wait for him, or he’s already left.

Considering the phone call, the former is the more likely.

The living room is empty, aside from the signs of a struggle.

So is the kitchen.

He enters the hallway.

There are only a few doors: the bathroom and, presumably, the bedroom.

The bathroom is small, the door left open wide enough for him to easily see there’s no one in there.

That leaves the bedroom.

Hotch pauses a moment just outside the door. His training is kicking in and he’s unwilling to burst in without having some idea on what to expect.

Finally, he takes a step forward…

… and freezes.

“Reid!” The younger agent has been positioned in the center of the room, in a chair that’s likely been dragged there from the kitchen area.

His hands have been bound behind him and there’s a strip of duct tape stretched across his mouth.

Aside from the trail of mostly dried blood leaking down the side of his face, Reid seems to be unharmed. 

Automatically, he lowers his weapon to rush to the younger man’s side.

Reid’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, whatever sound he tries to make muffled behind the tape.

Something slams into the back of his head, sending him to the ground and knocking his gun from his hand.

Groaning, he reaches blindly for it.

“Agent Hotchner,” the same voice he heard over the phone speaks from above him, “so good of you to join us.”

A kick to the back of his head sends him reeling into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Reid’s not sure how long they’ve been in their new location.

After taking Hotch down, the man had drugged him, slipping the needle into his neck.

They could have been here an hour. They could have been here a day.

He glances worriedly at his unit chief, sitting in a chair across from him.

Hotch still hasn’t woken up.

Reid doesn’t think the man kicked him hard enough to cause anything serious, but he could still have a concussion.

With nothing else to do, he tugs once more at the bonds keeping him to the chair.

The ropes around his wrists are biting deeply into his flesh.

He wiggles his fingers, in an attempt to keep the circulation going, but they feel stiff and uncoordinated.

He notices they’re in a workshop of some sort. Shelves of tools, a wooden floor, the smell of sawdust.

It doesn’t bode well.

Reid wonders if there’s a way for him to get to the tools, use them to cut himself free, but with the lack of feeling in his hands, he really doesn’t think he could manage it, even if he could find a way to get himself in the possession of one.

A moan has him looking back at Hotch.

The man is starting to stir and Reid feels a sudden surge of hope.

The tape over his lips is gone. He’s free to speak.

“Hotch?” he whispers, and his throat feels too dry, likely a result of the drugs.

He tries again, licking his lips, and forcing more volume into his voice. “Hotch?”

The man groans again, eyes flickering open briefly, before shutting again. “Reid?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s me.”

“He took you too…” he whispers. “... thought it was me he wanted.”

Reid tries to shrug. “Guess he wanted both of us.”

For a few seconds, Hotch is still, save the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Then, slowly, he cracks his eyes open, straightening in his chair and looking at Reid.

“Do you know who he was?” Hotch asks.

Reid shakes his head regretfully. “I was hoping you would. He… he seems to want something with you.”

“I know.” 

Hotch is bound to his chair differently, wrists secured to both arms of the chair with handcuffs. The same process has been repeated with his ankles.

Four sets of handcuffs.

That seems like serious overkill to Reid, but maybe it’s not. 

Not in the eyes of whoever took them.

Obviously, their abductor is taking no chances, seeing Hotch as the greater threat.

And rightfully so.

Reid’s not sure he could be of any help right now.

The door behind Reid creaks open.

Hotch’s eyes widen and he leans forward. “Reid, behind…” He doesn’t finish.

A hand slides over Reid’s mouth, yanking his head back. A knife caresses the side of his face.

“Tell me, Agent Hotchner, do you remember my name?”


	4. Chapter 4

_ “Tell me, Agent Hotchner, do you remember my name?” _

He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t remember who he is.

All he can see is Reid. 

Reid held at knifepoint and afraid.

“Leave him alone,” Hotch keeps his voice steady, knowing any emotional change could serve to set the man off. “You obviously have a grudge against me. You have me, so you can let Reid go.”

“You don’t remember me,” the man says. It’s not a question. His hand is trembling, shaking with barely suppressed rage. “You  _ should.” _

Reid closes his eyes as the knife presses harder against his cheek. “How could you not remember me? How could you not remember what you  _ did?” _

Hotch takes a deep breath. Seeing that knife so close to cutting Reid, to causing serious damage, isn’t something he ever wants to be exposed to again.

Yet he forces himself to tear his eyes away, forces himself to direct his gaze at the unsub.

He needs to keep the situation from spiraling out of control anymore than it already has.

Hotch studies the man’s face, already trying to profile him.

He’s clean-shaven, hair combed. His clothes appear neat.

Obviously, he puts effort into his appearance. 

He cares what other people think of him.

But his eyes.

They hold a wild, uncontrolled look to them.

And that’s what bothers him the most.

“I put a lot of people away. I make a lot of people angry with me.” Hotch fights to keep his voice calm as he explains himself. He doesn’t hope to make the man see reason. He knows that at this point he can’t. He just needs to stall him, get him to keep the knife away from Spencer. “I can’t be expected to remember them all.”

“ _ Lies!” _ the man snarls, raising his tone.

Reid flinches.

“It’s not a lie,” Hotch says. He works to keep his voice toneless“I told you. I deal with a lot of people who hold grudges. You can’t expect me to remember all of them.”

The hands and the knife suddenly drop away from Reid’s face.

Reid sucks in an unobstructed breath.

“My name,” the man says, “is Michael Greer.”

With a swift motion, he suddenly cuts the ropes binding Reid and drags him up, out of the chair.

“Do you remember me now?”


	5. Chapter 5

_ “Do you remember me now?” _

He jerks Reid out of the chair, twisting his arm behind his back, holding the knife to his neck.

Hotch clenches his fists. 

Michael Greer.

He’s different now. But that’s not surprising, considering it’s been eight years since he last laid eyes on him.

“Ah,” Michael smiles, obviously seeing the change in Aaron’s features. He smiles, rolling his head to the side slowly, satisfied. “So you do remember me.”

“You weren’t supposed to get out for another three years.” Hotch speaks slowly but from in between clenched teeth. He grips the arms of his chair, unconsciously straining against the handcuffs.

“Got out early for good behaviour.” He turns his head and holds the knife up to his face, still keeping a grip on Reid. “What do you think they’d think of this?” “You’re going to go back,” Reid says, “and you’re not going to get out this time. Is that what you really want? Kidnapping and…”

“ _ I don’t care! _ ” the man screams, spittle flying from his lips. His grip on Reid’s arm tightens and Reid falls silent with a small, nearly imperceptible, grimace of pain. “I don’t care,” he repeats, calmer. “I’ll have taken care of you.” He points the knife at Hotch. “You ruined my life! I lost my career! My  _ wife! _ ”

Hotch’s grip on the chair arms tightens.

“You were beating your wife, Michael. You nearly killed her!” Hotch grinds out before he can help it and then realizes that that might not have been the best thing to say.

He’s trying to talk him down, not set him off.

“Whore had it coming,” Greer spits. “And so do you!” Hotch takes a deep breath, and remembers what his goal is. 

He needs to get Greer to let Reid go, needs to remind Greer that his grudge is against  _ him _ and not Reid.

“That may be so,” he says. “But it’s me you have a problem with. Let Dr. Reid go.”

_ Keep it impersonal, _ his gut tells him. Don’t show him he has power.

It’s what he got off on.

It’s why he had lorded it over his wife.

It’s why, even now, he was choosing Reid to bully.

“No,” Greer says. He shakes his head. “No. You know why? Because I want  _ you _ to suffer.”

“No, that’s no it.” Hotch lifts his chin, fixing Greer with a firm look. “You’re a coward, do you know that? It’s why you bullied your wife. It’s why you chose to use Dr. Reid to get me to come to you. Because you knew what would happen if you confronted me on your own without a hostage.”

“You’re a liar!” Greer hisses.

“I don’t think so,” Hotch counters. Greer’s face is turning an ugly shade of red. Hotch’s words are working. “Even now you use him like a shield.”

“I’m not coward!”

“Then prove it,” Hotch challenges. “Let him go and face me on your own.”

Greer glares furiously at him, but Hotch can see his resolve wavering. 

Finally, the man shoves Reid to the ground and steps over him, balling his fists. 

“You think I’m a  _ coward?” _

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Hotch breathes a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief when Reid hits the ground. 

He’s out of Greer’s hands, out of danger for the time being.

He’s  _ safe _ .

Relief doesn’t last long, however.

He sees the fist flying towards his face a split second too late.

“You think I’m a  _ coward!” _

Another fist sends his head snapping to the side.

The taste of copper fills his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re a coward.” He coughs, spitting blood. “I  _ know _ you are. I see men like you every day at my job and if there’s one thing I can tell you it’s that men like you are all the same.” Behind Greer, he can see Reid moving, unsteadily climbing to his feet. He needs to keep Greer distracted, give Reid the time to do whatever it is he’s planning. “You’re  _ all  _ cowards.”

“ _ Shut. Up!” _

Another fist, this time to the gut. Hotch doubles over, coughing, but he isn’t allowed time to recover before another fist hits him in the jaw. 

And then another.

And another.

He sees stars, entire galaxies of them, explode across his vision, before Greer pulls back, panting now.

“Do you still think I’m a coward?” he asks, seething. 

“Is that why I’m still tied to this chair, Michael?” Hotch asks. He needs to keep Greer going. If he turns around and sees Reid… 

Greer makes another go at him, but Hotch stops him with his voice. “Do you want to know what I think, Michael? I think you spent your entire life being made to feel like you were weak and so when you got the chance, you took it out on those who were weaker, those who couldn’t fight back. Did hurting your wife make you feel like more of a man, Michael? Is that what it was?”

Greer lunges at him again, but Hotch sees a flicker of movement behind the man.

Unfortunately, Greer becomes aware of it too and he spins around.

Reid freezes, eyes wide. He’s found a hammer and, while Hotch hates the idea of seeing the young man intentionally hurt anyone, he knows that it’s what he would have had to do to keep them alive.

It doesn’t seem like that’s going to be an issue, however.

Greer goes for the hammer, attempting to wrest it from his grip. He still doesn’t consider Reid to be much of a threat, even with a weapon.

Hotch clenches his fists, feeling the bite of the zip ties against his wrists as he strains.

“Reid!”

He knows what will happen if Greer gets ahold of that hammer. He _knows_ and there’s nothing he can do about it because he’s sitting here, bound to the damn chair.  Reid stumbles back under the force of Greer’s attack, but keeps a death grip on the hammer. He too understands what’s at stake here.

Maybe more so than Hotch does.

Even now, a dozen statistics are likely running through his mind.

Hotch isn’t sure when it happened or how, but someone wins the fight over the hammer.

_ Crack! _

Greer suddenly slumps to the ground and Reid stands over him, looking slightly dazed as he drops the hammer.

Then he looks over at Hotch and seems to remember himself, taking several steps forward.

“Hotch?” he asks, sounding somewhat frantic. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hotch says, even though, with the pounding in his skull, he feels as if that is not the case. Reid doesn’t look entirely convinced either, so Hotch tugs on one of the handcuffs as a demonstration. “Check his pockets for the keys.”

Reid still doesn’t look convinced, but at least he doesn’t comment, dropping down on his knees next to the body.

Reid checks briefly for a pulse before digging through the man’s pockets for the keys.

“He’s alive,” Reid says, withdrawing and Hotch doesn’t miss how shaken the younger agent sounds.

“Are you okay?” 

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Reid doesn’t answer, moving instead to unlock the first of the cuffs.

His fingers slip several times-he hasn’t quite gotten the feeling in them all the way back. He hisses and sets back to work, getting the first of the cuffs off.

“Reid?” Hotch asks, concerned, as the cuff falls away. 

Reid moves to the other one, keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand and anywhere but his unit chief.

“Are you okay?” Hotch repeats the question again as the last cuff falls away and he rubs his wrists.

Reid hesitates, before starting to move on to Hotch’s ankles.

“Let me take that,” Hotch interjects gently, taking the keys from him.

Reid doesn’t protest. “I…” he finally begins, as Hotch unlocks his own ankles. “I thought for a second I’d killed him.”

And Hotch understands. 

Reid has already killed before.

It’s not something he wishes on anyone, but especially Reid.

And a hammer is so… so personal. So up close.

No wonder he was so shaken.

“It was self defense, Reid,” Hotch tells him firmly. He stands, appreciating the feeling of actually being able to  _ move _ again. “No one would fault you for that.”

He knows that, had Greer been dead, what he is saying right now wouldn’t have mattered. Reid would still have carried the weight of that death with him for the rest of his life.

Maybe it would have been an easier burden, knowing that there hadn’t been any other choice, but it would have been a burden to carry all the same.

You’re never the same after killing someone.

Hotch is glad that it didn’t have to come to that this time.

Reid doesn’t deserve that.

A groan comes from the man on the floor and Greer stirs. 

He’s waking up.

Hotch sets his jaw, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from the chair.

Marching forward, he presses a knee into Michael Greer’s back. 

Greer angles his head, getting a look at Hotch. “I’m not going to be the only one,” he says.

Hotch presses his knees harder against Greer’s back. Greer lets out a low moan. Hotch doesn’t care.

Not after what Greer did.

“You’re going away, Greer.” Hotch can’t keep the bite, nor the satisfaction, out of his tone as he cuffs him. “You lost.”

Greer rests his head back down. “But I’m not going to be the only one,” he says. His voice possesses a near dreamlike quality and his words are slurred. “You’ll die eventually.”

“But you won’t be around to see it.” Hotch cinches the handcuffs tight and Greer winces, closing his eyes again.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he whispers. And then he grins. “But it will be worth it when that day comes.”

Hotch tightens the cuffs once more. “We’ll see,” is all he says, then he turns away, leaving Greer on the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Reid doesn’t answer, moving instead to unlock the first of the cuffs.

His fingers slip several times-he hasn’t quite gotten the feeling in them all the way back. He hisses and sets back to work, getting the first of the cuffs off.

“Reid?” Hotch asks, concerned, as the cuff falls away. 

Reid moves to the other one, keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand and anywhere but his unit chief.

“Are you okay?” Hotch repeats the question again as the last cuff falls away and he rubs his wrists.

Reid hesitates, before starting to move on to Hotch’s ankles.

“Let me take that,” Hotch interjects gently, taking the keys from him.

Reid doesn’t protest. “I…” he finally begins, as Hotch unlocks his own ankles. “I thought for a second I’d killed him.”

And Hotch understands. 

Reid has already killed before.

It’s not something he wishes on anyone, but especially Reid.

And a hammer is so… so personal. So up close.

No wonder he was so shaken.

“It was self defense, Reid,” Hotch tells him firmly. He stands, appreciating the feeling of actually being able to  _ move _ again. “No one would fault you for that.”

He knows that, had Greer been dead, what he is saying right now wouldn’t have mattered. Reid would still have carried the weight of that death with him for the rest of his life.

Maybe it would have been an easier burden, knowing that there hadn’t been any other choice, but it would have been a burden to carry all the same.

You’re never the same after killing someone.

Hotch is glad that it didn’t have to come to that this time.

Reid doesn’t deserve that.

A groan comes from the man on the floor and Greer stirs. 

He’s waking up.

Hotch sets his jaw, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from the chair.

Marching forward, he presses a knee into Michael Greer’s back. 

Greer angles his head, getting a look at Hotch. “I’m not going to be the only one,” he says.

Hotch presses his knees harder against Greer’s back. Greer lets out a low moan. Hotch doesn’t care.

Not after what Greer did.

“You’re going away, Greer.” Hotch can’t keep the bite, nor the satisfaction, out of his tone as he cuffs him. “You lost.”

Greer rests his head back down. “But I’m not going to be the only one,” he says. His voice possesses a near dreamlike quality and his words are slurred. “You’ll die eventually.”

“But you won’t be around to see it.” Hotch cinches the handcuffs tight and Greer winces, closing his eyes again.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he whispers. And then he grins. “But it will be worth it when that day comes.”

Hotch tightens the cuffs once more. “We’ll see,” is all he says, then he turns away, leaving Greer on the floor.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek Morgan has been angry before. Everytime he has to face the victims, see what new atrocities mankind is capable of committing, he is angry.

But this feels different. It’s personal.

Someone dared to try taking members of his team-his  _ family-  _ away from him and he is furious.

Emily Prentiss, in the passenger seat next to him, doesn’t speak a word.

Not that he expects her to.

The woman is new to their team and, while so far she’s proved her mettle a hundred times over, he doesn’t know her well and now is not the time to change that.

And, right now, she doesn’t have all that much of his attention.

It’s only when he turns a corner far sharper than she should have that she speaks up, gripping the door handle. “Watch it!”

Morgan shakes his head, sparing her a glance. “Don’t tell me how to drive,” he says.

“You’re not going to be much help to either of them if you get us killed on the way there!” Prentiss snaps.

Morgan’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t respond.

Prentiss sighs and leans back in her seat. “I’m sorry, but…” She seems to ponder how best to proceed. “They’re alive,” she finally says simply.

Morgan swallows, and the feeling is painful in his throat, as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

Yes, they’re alive. That knowledge allows the fear he’s felt for the past five hours abate somewhat.

He knows it won’t go away completely until he sees them.

But he allows himself to slow anyways.

“Reid needs to stop getting himself into messes like these,” he mutters.

He doesn’t look at Prentiss, but he can sense her eyebrows going up.

“Last time I checked,” she remarks dryly, “Reid wasn’t the only one in this mess.”

Morgan sends her a sideways glance, but quickly returns his eyes to the road in front of him. He trusts Hotch, trusts him with his life. He knows Hotch would fight to his last breath for any one of them.

There isn’t a better person for Reid to have gone through this with.

Even still, his fear won’t go away until he’s seen them both with his own eyes.

The first thing that registers when they arrive at the address Garcia pulled for them is how achingly normal it is.

It’s not that unusual, he reflects.

How many times has he seen some picture perfect exterior that hides a house of death on the inside?

Too many.

He wastes no time in exiting the vehicle, drawing his gun as he does so. If Reid was able to get in touch with Garcia than there’s a high likelihood that their unsub is already subdued.

He’s taking no chances.

He can hear sirens in the distance, drawing nearer quickly, and feels momentary satisfaction that they managed to be them all hear.

Prentiss is behind him. He might not know her, but he trusts her to have his back if the situation should call for it.

The house is small. It shouldn’t take long to clear it, he thinks.

“Morgan!”

Reid’s voice calls out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Behind him Morgan hears Prentiss’ sharp intake of breath and he feels a sudden weight in his chest leave as the younger man appears around the corner.

He looks haggard and worn, dried blood trailing down one side of his face, but otherwise unhurt.

Morgan is relieved-until he sees that Hotch isn’t behind him, and he remembers that Garcia had said it was Reid who’d called, using Hotch’s phone.

Reid seems to understand his thoughts and he glances back the way he’d come. “He’s back there,” he says. “I said,” he swallows before going on, “that it might be best if he rested.”

Morgan finds himself surprised that Hotch actually listened, but he doesn’t give himself time to ponder it. Instead, he crosses the distance between them, placing his hands gently on the younger man’s shoulders and looking him in the eyes.

Prentiss lingers behind him, as if unsure what to do, before she moves past them, disappearing around the corner as she goes to find Hotch.

“And you?” he asks searchingly. “How are you?”

His eyes roam to the blood on the side of Reid’s head. The wound, however, is hidden by his hairline.

Reid immediately brings a hand up to the blood. “I’m fine,” he says, more than a little defensively.

“You scared us, kid.”


	10. Chapter 10

Morgan takes a look at the interior of the workshop, before his eyes fall on Hotch.

Their unit chief is battered and bruised, but none the worse for wear and, judging from the look on Prentiss’ face, he doesn’t think he was sitting when she first came in.

He raises his eyebrows at her questioningly and she shakes her head in return, a silent communication passing briefly between them.

Then Morgan’s eyes fall on the handcuffed man on the ground, the man he can now identify as Michael Greer.

“What happened to him?” he asks, taking a step around him. The man’s eyes are open and they follow Morgan, glaring between slitted lids.

Morgan chooses to ignore him for the time being. Once he hears the story, he’ll decide what he has to do.

Morgan isn’t imagining the brief flicker of pride he sees in Hotch’s eyes when he answers him. “It was Reid.”

Morgan blinks. “Reid?” He turns to glance at the young man who’s now standing behind him, unable to hide his surprise.

But then Morgan breaks out into a grin. He refrains from giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder, mindful that Reid might very well have injuries he doesn’t know about yet.

“Way to go,” he congratulates him. Reid shifts, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the attention.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

The man on the ground squirms. “Don’t forget what I said,” he hisses. “There will be someone else.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Morgan gets down, grabbing the man’s arm and hauling him roughly to his feet. “Keep your comments to yourself.”


	11. Chapter 11

Hotch sits still, allowing the paramedics to check him over.

In the end, they don’t find anything beyond what he already knew.

He’s bruised, but not quite concussed.

He’ll be fine.

Hotch stands.

He’s not normally one to indulge in “I told you so’s,” but the look he directs at Prentiss conveys much of the same message.

She rolls her eyes, but stays firmly planted where she is.

Reid, however, it would seem, is not as lucky as he. 

The young agent almost certainly has a concussion and, though it’s not serious, it still fills his superior with concern as he watches someone finish cleaning the blood from his temple.

The medic checking his head pulls away and Hotch finally has a chance to talk to Morgan again.

“Haley?” he asks. 

His wife must be terrified.

“She knows you’re alive,” Morgan answers and Hotch’s heart is set at least partially at ease. 

He doesn’t want to imagine what it must have been like for Haley. 

Not knowing. 

He closes his eyes.

But then Morgan is speaking again. “Hotch, you really scared us this time. Both of you.”

Hotch sends another look at Reid. 

Prentiss is at his side now.

He looks back at Morgan.

“I’m surprised you’re not with him,” he says, both out of honest surprise and to avoid what is coming dangerously close to becoming a heart to heart. 

“And I’ll be seeing him once I’m done with you,” Morgan returns easily. 

The only reason he isn’t at Reid’s side right now is because the paramedic going over his head injury insisted on  _ space _ , which resulted in Morgan’s pacing back and forth until a word from Prentiss had him switching victimology and heading over to Hotch.

Hotch appreciates his agent’s concern. He does, but right now he doesn’t want to feel like an unsub grilled in the interrogation room.

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly.

He wants to see Haley and Jack, wants to hold his son and let his wife know that he’s okay, that he’s going to be okay.

His eyes seek out Reid.

The younger agent is going to be okay.

There’s no lasting damage.

Both the medical personnel and his own senses tell him as much.

But he still remembers Reid’s voice over the phone. He can still feel the unpleasant jolt in his heart as he realized that  _ this was bad, this was very bad. _

He can’t shake the image of Reid when he found him in his apartment, looking so much younger than he actually is.

Hotch forces himself to take another breath.

Reid can take care of himself. He proved that today.

But he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being that terrified of seeing any one of them in that kind of situation.

What scares him more is that he knows he might not be able to stop it from happening the next time.

“Hey,” Morgan says, cutting into his thoughts. “What’s going on with you?”

Hotch takes another deep breath- and then he decides to open up.

“Greer was right,” he says.

Morgan frowns at him. “Hotch, you can’t seriously mean…”

“He said there would be others.”

“Hotch… we get enemies. It comes with the job.”

“I know, but…” It’s one thing to know this. It’s another to face losing someone you care about-someone you want to protect-because of your job. “Greer took Reid. He dragged one of you into his personal vengeance.”

Morgan is silent, but then he speaks again. 

“Hotch, you can’t stop that from happening,” he says slowly.

“I know.” Hotch clenches one fist down by his side, because that’s the problem. He wants to be able to stop this from happening again, and the fact that it might be entirely out of his control isn’t something he can quite come to grips with.

“But you need to trust us,” Morgan continues. “We all knew the risks when we signed on for this job and that includes Reid. Hotch, we might not be able to prevent these things, but we sure as hell aren’t going to let them stop us.”

He’s not quite glaring, but something in his eyes makes Hotch take what he says to heart.

“So… are you with me?”

Hotch meets his eyes. “I’m with you.” Morgan smiles.

“Good. Now let’s go see Reid.”


	12. Chapter 12

Reid winces as the woman finishes cleaning his head wound.

“All better.” She offers him a small smile and steps back and Reid almost frowns.

He’s not five.

Prentiss, standing off to the side, offers him a tight, sympathetic smile, as if she knows what’s on his mind, but she doesn’t speak.

“Reid!”

Morgan’s voice reaches his ears and his head snaps up.

He can’t help the way his shoulders slump in relief when he catches sight of the other man.

He’s tired of being poked and prodded.

Surely, Morgan will be able to help him out with that.

“Morgan!” He straightens, unable to keep the relief out of his voice.

Prentiss angles her head and her ponytail swishes to the side, but she steps back, even though there’s plenty of room for Derek to make his way through.

“Hotch told me what you did,” Morgan says as soon as he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to shout.

Reid gives him a strange look. “I know,” he says slowly, but this time he does frown. He was there after all. Does Morgan think the blow to his head suddenly caused short term memory loss?

“I know you know,” Morgan says gently, in the tone of voice meant to soothe ruffled feathers, and Reid feels a little less defensive. It still feels as though Morgan is walking on eggshells around him though and he doesn’t like it. “But maybe what you don’t know is how we all feel about that.”

Reid looks up at him then, slightly startled.

“Reid, I know you feel like Greer chose you because he sees you as the weak link.”

“That  _ is _ why he chose me,” Reid interjects bitterly.

“Maybe. But it’s why he lost. Reid, if it had been any one of us, he would have never given us the opportunity to do what you did.”

Reid raises an eyebrow. “‘You’re saying it’s a good thing he chose me than?”

“I’m saying it’s a good thing he underestimated you,” Morgan clarifies. “But I think you proved it today. You’re not the weak one.”

With that, he reaches up, giving Reid’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Greer was.”


End file.
